


Nightmares

by MimeticEternity



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik comforts him, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, T'Challa's been having nightmares, T'cherik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimeticEternity/pseuds/MimeticEternity
Summary: "They are about you."----------In which T'Challa has nightmares and Erik scoffs at the ancestors.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Just wanted to get my feet wet in this fandom and write something for this ship (maybe I'll try to write an M'Challa one next!). This is just a snippet of a fic that I may never write, in an "Erik lives" universe that I have very vague ideas about. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

“T’Challa,” Erik said, gripping his arm firmly. “ _Look at me._ ”  
  


T’Challa blinked firmly, breath uneven, before raising his gaze to meet Erik’s. Erik’s hand on his arm slid up to his shoulder, then to his face, cupping it firmly. “What is it?”  
  


T’Challa stared, sad eyes slowly roaming over the moonlit lines of Eriks’ face. Erik’s frown deepened as T’Challa grasped the hand Erik had placed on his cheek, a muscle in his jaw jumping when T’Challa moved it to place a reverent kiss to his knuckles.  
  


“Nothi-”  
  


“Don’t tell me it’s nothing ‘cause I know it’s not.”  
  


Erik’s whole body was tense, his hand gripping T’Challa’s hard enough to bruise. T’Challa didn’t flinch.  
  


“I am simply…” T’Challa sighed, “I have been having nightmares. I think...I think they are omens from the ancestors.”  
  


Erik’s bruising grip on his hand loosened, and his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.  
  


“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”  
  


T’Challa’s gaze snapped up to his.  
  


“You knew?”  
  


“Of course I knew. I sleep next to you every night. I’d have to be a rock not to notice.”  
  


T’Challa chuckled and poked his shoulder.  
  


“Well you are certainly strong enough to be one-” Erik smiled smugly “-and hardheaded enough too,” T’Challa quickly added.  
  


“Fuck you,” Erik laughed, nothing but fondness in his voice as he smiled. He stared for a few more moments, lifting the hand that wasn’t gripping T’Challa’s to cup his face again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  


T’Challa closed his eyes and leaned into Erik’s hand.  
  


“I did not want you to worry.”  
  


Erik frowned, eyes focused on the movement of his thumb stroking T’Challa’s face.  
  


“What are they about?”  
  


T’Challa tensed and opened his eyes, a hesitance there that Erik could feel vibrating in his bones. Erik’s body began to tense again, muscles tightening, an involuntary response to any kind of threat - a warrior’s response. “ _Musa ukuthetha amanga kum._ ”  
  


_Don’t lie to me._   
  


More a demand than a plea, recompense for a lifetime of lies, spoken in the tongue of those who had abandoned him. This was the least T’Challa could do.  
  


“They are about you.”  
  


His whisper, punched from his chest, didn’t linger long in the air between them. Erik couldn’t stop it from screaming in his head. He stepped back, spine taut, hands falling away from T’Challa’s body.  
  


“What about me,” he said, one foot unconsciously sliding a bit behind him, body angling ever so slightly - a defensive position. “What’d your ancestors show you about _me_.” The words were almost a yell, and T’Challa held up a placating hand, eyes wide and voice cracking as he said-  
  


“They show me your death.” A tear fell from his cheek. “ _Bandibonisa inlela ofa ngayo._ ”  
  


_They show me how you die._   
  


Erik relaxed slowly, _slowly_ , shoulders slumping. T’Challa held up a shaking hand, and Erik exhaled before he took it, pulling him into an embrace.  
  


“They got some nerve showing you shit like that,” he scoffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. T’Challa pulled back suddenly, an almost frantic look on his face.  
  


“Erik do not insult the ancestors-!”  
  


“You put a _spear_ in my chest, kitten-” he ignored T’Challa’s flinch. “-and I’m still here. They got no say in whether I live or die.”  
  


“Perhaps not,” T’Challa whispered, throat still tight. “But visions like these are not to be taken lightly.”  
  


“Oh so they’re visions now?”  
  


“They feel so real. Too real-”  
  


T’Challa choked, his throat too tight, and Erik pulled him close again.  
  


“Nightmares be like that sometimes, kitten. But they’re still just that: nightmares. Don’t matter if they’re from the ancestors or not.”  
  


T’Challa buried his face into Erik’s neck, Erik’s body completely relaxed now as he held him. There was no threat now, noone he had to attack, to defend. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  


He’s been a killer all his life. Taken lives on every continent, innocent and not. All that death...and here was a man begging him to live. T’Challa pressed a kiss to his shoulder.  
  


“I will hold you to that.”  
  


Erik grunted in reply. He would hold himself to that too.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
